


The Prize

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Ringmaster [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Community: fmagiftexchange, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Kimblee comes to the Elric-Rockbell family with a proposition. <br/>Disclaimer: Beyond not mine, in any version of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suzume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/gifts).



Though it had only been a few years since Drachma took over Amestris immediately after the battle of the Promised Day, things had changed dramatically. Technology had improved – not just marched forward, but lunged, covering an amazing distance in what seemed a short handful of days. The Drachmans proved they were scientific geniuses as well as masters of alchemy, what with their ability to collar the State Alchemists and impair their ability to use alchemy. How the Drachmans had found a way to interrupt the flow from an alchemist’s personal Gate was something Edward hadn’t had a chance to investigate – not that his trainer and his master allowed him time to think. 

He was – the Amestrian alchemists were - allowed a modicum of freedom, as if it was a nearly stripped bone tossed to a starving dog. They were kept in a small, heavily guarded part of the city, allowed to live in homes with their families (if they had families), otherwise, they stayed in relatively comfortable barracks, with small apartments of their own. There was food they could purchase and cook, but no alcohol, nor bars, nor places where they could gather at will. The guards, the collars, the spy cameras, Drachma kept an eye on their actions. Whatever happened within Alchemist City was broadcast for all of Drachma, and what was left of Amestris, to see. If he wanted, he could even watch other alchemists on the televised screens; not that Edward paid much attention to them. “It’s like gossip.” He had no use for that, either, not unless someone he cared about showed up on the screen. (Alphonse. Winry.) Edward took great pains to try to be the one viewed, but that didn’t always happen. 

Which was how he’d found out about Kimblee still being alive. The white-suited bastard showed up on the screen, smiling benevolently. Edward had noted Kimblee wasn’t wearing a collar. Worse, the next time he saw Kimblee, the Crimson Lotus Alchemist was in his house, seated at the table, with a half-empty cup of tea in front of him and a palpable tension in the air. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Edward snarled. 

Kimblee wiped his mouth with a napkin, all good manners and creepy smile. He rose to his feet, offering Edward his hand. Edward didn’t take it. “It’s good to see you, Fullmetal. I know it’s been some time, and our last encounter didn’t go as well as it might have. But I would like to offer you some information.” 

Edward folded his arms. “What’s that going to cost us?” No collar, Kimblee was on the side of the Drachmans. A trusted ally. Why should he pay any attention to anything Kimblee said? Especially with the expressions on Pinako’s, Winry’s and Alphonse’s faces. “What did you to say to them, already?” 

“Just a few suggestions,” Kimblee said, not seeming to care that Edward didn’t take his hand, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. “A few offers.” He smiled urbanely. “And you, Edward, might appreciate what I have to say.” 

He bristled. “Somehow, I doubt it.” Moving around Kimblee to stand in front of his family, Edward felt better between them and him, despite Kimblee having the upper hand in so many ways. 

“How would you like to have more freedom? A little less…restrictions in your life?” 

Not rising to the bait was difficult, but Edward managed to adjust his stance, not doing anything else. He could feel the warmth behind him, proof of his family standing with him. It kept him in check in front of Kimblee when all he really wanted to do was beat his face in. When Edward didn’t speak, Kimblee went on. “I suppose anyone would. And all it takes is your agreement to do what I say. You see, I’ve made an offer to Sorgai, your master, to buy you. All of you.” He included Pinako in his nod. “But part of the reason I want you is simple, really.” Inclining his upper body toward Edward, he said, as if imparting a secret, “You’re an excellent fighter.” 

Edward sucked in a breath, recoiling from Kimblee’s words. “Yes,” Kimblee said, with a nod, “I’ve watched you fight. I’ve seen you lose and I’ve seen you win. I’ve seen you come back from some incredible losses. I want you.” He smiled faintly as Edward snarled. “In a completely platonic way. You aren’t my type, frankly. You understand, your fighting skills make you highly desirable. If Alphonse was in better shape, he would be, too, but his time elsewhere has put him at a disadvantage in the ring. Of course, he could provide excellent breeding stock.” Edward nearly attacked, but someone’s hand caught his shoulder, keeping him still but vibrating under that pressure. “You hadn’t thought of that, had you? Slaves are breeding stock, you know.” 

Kimblee twirled his hat in his hands before setting it on his head – rude, inside, but who was going to call him on it? He smiled again. “So, Edward, I hope you’re able to work with me. Or for me, as the case might be. I’ll be seeing all of you shortly.” He hesitated at the door, tugging the rim of his hat. “Miss Rockbell.” 

Winry made a noise deep in her throat, a sound that reminded Edward of a snared rabbit’s cry. Edward waited until Kimblee was outside the apartment, the door closed firmly behind him before he spun around. “What the hell was that? Winry?” 

Her chin came up, though it trembled, and her eyes were full of unshed tears. “Don’t worry about it, Ed.” 

“Fuck that, Winry! What did he want?” Edward had to keep from grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. 

“Ed!” Pinako’s hard hand landed on his shoulder – the same one that had grabbed him earlier, he realized. “Leave the girl alone. Winry, go…go on and clean yourself up.” Alphonse’s mouth twisted in a firm line, and he blocked Edward so he couldn’t follow her. 

“What the hell is going on?” Edward asked, an impotent rage building inside him. One he recognized all too well, the same one from the past few years. The one that fueled every battle he waged in the arena. 

“Sit down, Ed.” Pinako pointed at a chair. Kimblee’s chair. Edward almost didn’t obey, not wanting to sit where Kimblee’d planted his ass, but finally dropped into the chair. Pinako swept the cup from the table, not throwing it at the sink, but Edward had the impression she wanted to. Alphonse leaned his crutches against the table and took the chair next to Edward’s as Pinako returned the table with a fresh cup. “Kimblee came with an offer,” she said, pouring tea into the cup and passing it to Edward. “He wants to buy all of us. A family unit.” She almost spat out the words, but seemed to manage to keep herself calm. “We can live together. You’ll fight for him, like for Sorgai.” 

“But,” Alphonse said, “he says Winry needs to be his personal slave.” 

“Personal slave? What does that even mean…” The implications suddenly came to him. Sorgai’s ‘special parties’, which Edward had to attend as a party toy. How he felt afterward, coming home in pain and worse. Kimblee – he was… “No. Hell, no!” He leaped to his feet, pacing back and forth alongside the table, shooting a harsh look at the door to the apartment, and a more worried one toward the closed bathroom door. 

“It’s not like we have a choice, Ed. Sorgai owns us.” Alphonse slapped the table top, making the cups rattle. “If he wants to sell us, there’s nothing we can do.” 

“It gets worse, Ed.” Pinako broke in. 

“How the hell can it get any worse?” Edward stopped, looking down at them both. “Winry’s going to be a – a,” he couldn’t even say the words. He threw his hand at the bathroom door. “To Kimblee!”

“Keep your voice down, Ed!” Pinako snapped at him. “Sit. Now.” 

Edward started to protest, but the expression in the old hag’s eyes made him obey her. He sat down in the chair, twining his fingers together to keep from punching something. “I’m sitting.” 

“There’s more.” Alphonse took up the story. “They’ve decided the fights in the arena aren’t enough.” Edward shot him a sharp look. “Ed, they’re implementing something new. Amestrians, any Amestrian, could have their name drawn. They’re going to choose twelve people to go into a…a huge arena.” He swallowed hard, glancing down at the table, his hands clenching into fists. “They want us…the Amestrians…to fight. Whoever comes out as the winner gets freedom, not just for himself, but his – her family, too.” 

“Yeah?” Freedom, in a country ruled by Drachma. How much would that be worth? 

“There’s one more thing,” Pinako said, and it seemed like she shrank in her chair. “The winner’s determined by how many kills are made.” She reached across to place her hand over Edward’s. “It’s going to be a fight to the death. Kimblee said…he can protect us. Keep us from going into that battleground. Sorgai…he’s already put our names in the pot.” 

“The owner of the Amestrians…will be recompensed. Greatly.” Alphonse bit out the words like they were a bad-tasting medicine in his mouth. “Whether the…opponents live or die.” 

Edward fell back into his chair, sucking in a deep breath. Thoughts flashed through his mind, how this could be happening, what might happen to the other alchemists, why Kimblee would’ve chosen _them_. How Winry and Pinako might be considered ‘family’ to the Drachmani. He covered his eyes with his hands. If he and Alphonse were released, would the Rockbells be? Or would they still be slaves? 

The bathroom door opened with a squeal, and Edward heard Winry approaching the table. He dropped his hands, leaning the back of his head on the back of his chair, turning to meet her eyes. Jolted as always with what he saw hidden in them. She laid her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Edward slowly raised his hand to cover hers. 

“I guess we have to fight.”


End file.
